The whims of Dorian Gray
by Tina VanTandrad
Summary: What a strange boy he is, this Dorian Gray. It is hard to understands his reasoning- especially for his lover, who always wants to please.
1. Golden light

Hello! I want to apologise for my hiatus, but I've been out writing a book with a co-author, and I had to prioritise it. Hopefully, I will be back into publishing more fanfictions now. J 3

Ps: Something I noticed, with many other Dorian Gray ffs I've read so far, is that they base his looks on the movies (it's also a thing that gets me, because he looks nothing like what he's supposed to look like in most of them). So just for clarification, here is what Oscar Wilde described him as, and what he looks like in my story:

" _Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, with his finely-curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair._ "

The warm morning light flowed like liquid gold through the light curtains in front of semi-opened windows and a light breeze stirred the air, chasing away the scent of musk and eau de toilette. A pleasant silence lay over the room. It was only broken by the birds chirping in the garden and some traffic in the distance. Minutes passed, but neither of the two men occupying the room, stirred. It wasn't until much later that Basil Hallward's eyes fluttered open and met curious blue ones. They looked much more excited than usually. A beautiful spark that carried all the wonders and beauty of human nature, could be found in those sapphire circles.  
"Good morning, Dorian." He muttered sleepily.  
"Good morning, Basil!" the boy chimed. "I am very glad you are awake, so we may start on our journey!"  
As he emerged from the land of dreams, the artist remembered he had promised him a day by the sea, where the sand was white and soft, and people were few.  
"Indeed, my dear boy. We shall leave immediately after breakfast." Slender fingers played with youthful, golden hair. "Did you sleep well?" asked Basil, knowing his lover often struggled to fall asleep in the heat of London's summers.  
"Somewhat, but I believe it was excitement that kept me awake last night."  
A gentle laugh escaped the older man's throat. "Surely you have been by the sea before, Dorian."  
"Never, Basil! My parents never took me there when I was little, at least I have no recollection of it, and my uncle never took me anywhere, that hateful man!" the boy frowned.  
"Well, I shall be taking you there today, and we will not leave until Monday, if you so wish."  
Gray's eyes glistened with the excitement of the prospect. Somehow, this innocent glance, ended in a game of kissing, by which Dorian was attempting to get his lover out of bed and back into his own bedroom- not the guest room.

An hour and a half later, the couple arrived at Victoria Station with their valets and their luggage, and immediately headed for the train to Bournemouth. Once the train rolled out of the station and they were alone in their compartment, Dorian rested his head upon Basil's shoulder and entwined his fingers with his. "I hope there is a piano at the hotel. I would very much like to play tonight…perhaps after dinner."  
"I would be surprised if there was none." The artist replied. "Surely, something can be arranged."  
"And if I play, it will be only for you, my dear Basil."  
For a moment, he found himself deprived of words. Dorian wasn't usually so romantic- he was had an excellent sense of humour and could be very kind if he chose to be so, but romance did not count among one of his strengths. In fact, even though they were lovers, Basil felt, at times, that Dorian was oblivious to his romantic advances and affections. Then there were moments like these that reminded him of how lucky he was to call Dorian his. Even after a year, he was so enchanted, so fascinated by the man! His beauty was not the only aspect of the boy, Basil enjoyed so much. It was his character. It was his innocence that contradicted so strongly with how aware he was in matters of physical love. How tender and child-like he could be, and yet how cruelly he enjoyed causing pain at times. He could be so terribly unromantic one day, and plan a picnic in the countryside the next. Perhaps it was this curious duality he had about him that made him so wonderful a companion.  
"I am honoured, Dorian." He said eventually, unaware of the deep shade of crimson his cheeks had adopted. Even though the boy made no reply, Basil could see, he was smiling happily. It was enough for him to be satisfied. It wasn't long until he felt the weight of a head resting against his shoulder once again. It was different this time. It felt heavier. The artist dared not turn his head, but Dorian's shallow breath told him, his lover was fast asleep.


	2. Angler fish

They arrived in Bournemouth just in time for luncheon, which they took at the Pier, while their valets transported their luggage to the hotel and checked in.  
"Oh, Basil, it is so different from my imagination!" The boy cried cheerfully. They had had a good laugh upon exiting their carriage near the hotel, when Dorian first smelled the sea and remarked on the peculiar smell of fish and salt in the air.  
"But you appear rather positive about it." Basil remarked, taking a sip of his lemonade.  
"Quite, quite! Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine such vast masses of water! I wonder what dreadful kinds of monsters lurk in the darkness, beneath the surface…" he boy said dreamily. He had hardly eaten anything on his plate, but instead rested his chin in his hand, and looked dreamily out onto the open sea.  
"My dear boy, have you never been to the Museum of Natural History?" Basil laughed.  
"No." Dorian pouted and looked him in the eye. "What do I care for dead animals?"  
"Well, you would know all about the creatures of the deep, had you payed a visit to the museum. I believe I shall take you there one day. They exhibit a great many specimen there. For instance, the angler fish, which has so many long and sharp teeth, it is hard to count them. It lives so far down in the ocean, his realm is perpetual darkness- however, it has a light attached to its head- not unlike a lantern is attached to a carriage, and it uses it to lure its prey directly into its awful fangs."  
The gruesome tale seemed to absolutely fascinate Dorian. His glistening eyes were fixed on Basil and his mouth slightly open, as his imagination created a thousand pictures of the monster his friend had just described. Once the tale ended, he looked back out into the sea, as if he had not expected such monsters to exist in reality and he felt betrayed by his new friend. Some things are perhaps more romantic, if they are left to the imagination.  
"The sea is a dreadful place, Basil." He said suddenly in a most serious manner, and finally decided to interact with his luncheon. "I will not so much as set a foot into these waters. Don't laugh at me, Basil. I said, don't! I do not wish to encounter any of those awful creatures! How does anyone enjoy the sea, if it is so dangerous?" discontented at having his excitement spoiled so heartlessly, he ate a chip and looked at all the people down on the beach, who were enjoying the sun and swimming in the sea.  
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Dorian." The artist said with some good humour. "I said those fish dwell so deep down, no light ever reaches their realm. The light on the surface would cause them considerable pain, if they have eyes at all, that is. Besides, they care about nothing that it not a fish."  
As the boy slowly regained his trust to the sea, the conversation turned to eyeless animals and their biology, and eventually to art. Basil had promised to visit a local art-collectors gallery. The two of them enjoyed themselves greatly. The place invoked the desire in Basil, to make yet another drawing of his lover. The beach would be the perfect occasion to do so. They left the gallery with linked arms and laughing. It was one of those rare moments, when one is in a state of such bliss, that one fails to notice one's own happiness. Those are the only times that qualify as true, untainted happiness.


	3. Little gestures

Before finally heading for the beach, the couple returned to their hotel, in order to change into their swimsuits. Thus prepared, they finally arrived by the shore, where a cool breeze was blowing and the waves crashed loudly, but rhythmically against the wet sand. Dorian had overcome his fear of monsters and angler fish. He bit his lip and turned to Basil. "Could I perhaps ask you to hold this for me?" he asked, handing the painter his towel and hat. They shared a smile. Their cheeks were reddened, perhaps from the sun that was beating down mercilessly onto them, but more likely because of that intimate glance they had shared. Another moment passed in silence, the two men lost in each other's eyes.  
"Thank you." Said Dorian cheerfully, saluted and ran towards the sea with boyish excitement and loud laughter. He did not seem to care at all for the tuts and angry gazes he received. While Gray explored the beach and collected shells, Basil laid out their towels and strolled along the beach in his own time. His urge to paint had subsided. He simply wished to listen to the waves and birds around him. He wanted to soak in the strangely soothing smell of the sea that always calmed the nerves. When he returned to his towel, Dorian was sitting there, soaked to the chest, wearing his straw boater and arranging shells. Somehow, he had managed to get hold of a large parasol, which now offered shade to both their towels. The painter was strangely touched by the little gesture of affection. In a way, Dorian shared certain similarities to a cat- he could be moody and arrogant, or simply thoughtless at times. He always knew how to demand the attention he wanted and decline it when he needed none. Then, often without a warning, he would be the best, kindest, young man the world had ever brought forward. Then, he would take Basil out for dinner, to the theatre, or to the bedroom. The latter was a place where they seldom disagreed.  
Basil sat down and, after a while of watching his lover regard the shells he had collected with the curiosity of a scientist, brought forward his pencils and sketchbook. The seaside, seemed to make him even more boyish than he was naturally. Upon seeing Basil draw, he said "I am tired of being drawn. If you must have another image of me, you must draw me like this." And stuck out his tongue. Against his expectations however, the artist only smirked and continued to sketch. After a few minutes (Dorian had stowed away his tongue where it belonged) Hallward wordlessly handed him the book with the drawing. What he saw there, made the boy laugh loudly. He had really drawn him with his eyes closed and his tongue sticking out. Oh how Dorian wished he could kiss him right then and there. Boring old Basil, had managed to break his own rules and portray him as he really was- no flattery, no poses or suits. For the first time since they knew each other, Dorian saw himself in one of his images.  
"I want to keep it, Basil. Please."  
"Whatever for?"  
"As a reminder of this wonderful day."  
"Well, of course, of course, but have you not these shells and stones as reminders?"  
"I do, but the picture is so different from your usual way of drawing me. It is so very much like me. Can offer one of my most beautiful shells for it."  
With a playful sigh, Hallward removed the page from his sketchbook and gave it to his companion. Dorian insisted on giving him a shell in return. It really was one of the most beautiful ones he had ever seen. It was shaped like a cone and adorned with many ornaments and details on the outside, but the inside shone like mother of pearl. They shared another brief gaze. An unexecuted kiss lay between them as a reminder how unjust their society was. Why would they not let a man love another? Wasn't it love all the same? They sighed in unison, then chuckled. It would have to serve as one of those little secrets that made life so romantically mysterious.


	4. Good night

**Warning: this paragraph contains somewhat graphic scenes. I will mark it for all those who don't like it.  
Also: on this note, I kind of feel like I have to point out that I keep referring to Dorian as "the boy", which might look gross, given that part of the story. However, Dorian is about 20 or even 21 when this takes place, and the term only refers to his boyish looks and nature, because he keeps behaving like a child.**

 **(Plus, and this is just a little fun fact, which I think is really cute, both Basil and Harry keep calling him either "a good boy", "dear boy", or "silly boy", and the latter really upsets Dorian in the scene where they're all in Basil's studio in the beginning. I personally find it quite funny. :P)**

* * *

At four, Dorian insisted he wanted to return to the hotel and Basil should accompany him. As was his habit, he did not explain why. Eventually, the artist gave in and followed his lover back to their temporary home. Both of them returned to their rooms (of course, they had to have separate ones) to take a bath. While Hallward was exiting the tub, he could hear Dorian leave his room already. An elderly lady stopped him in the hallway to chat. The voice was familiar, but without understanding her words, he could not possibly identify her. He heard as they parted ways. With a shrug, he began to put on the suit his man had prepared for him. At about five, he set out to find the boy, although he didn't have to look for him for long. Dorian was sat in the lounge, surrounded by strangers who listened with great delight as he played the piano. A spark of joy entered his eyes and he smiled widely as he saw his friend. Somehow, the encounter changed his play. Not that it had been lacking in any way, but since that brief glance, there was more emotion, more joy and passion in the melody. The artist sat down at the back of the crowd and listened. What art was to him, the piano was to Dorian, there was no doubt in that. So could it be that he had the same effect on the boy, as the boy had on him? He had never thought about it before. Why would he? Until this moment, it seemed very clear that that was not the case! What else could this change in music mean, if not that he loved him equally? Basil listened intently. He felt that his realisation had altered the way he saw him. Basil had always believed he was merely a friend to him- a friend, with whom he occasionally shared a bedroom, and it had been perfectly fine. Now he felt like a fool for feeling that way. Could he dare to say those three words he had always wanted to say so dearly? No. He could not possibly do so before Dorian. What if he frightened him away? What if he was wrong after all? No, he could never say it as long as Dorian didn't. He had said so many things he regretted having said afterwards, but this, he knew, would simply go too far. Basil was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he did not realise Dorian finished playing. Only when the room erupted into applause, he was torn from his reverie and joined the clapping. Immediately, Gray approached him.  
"Basil! Oh I am so glad you came down. Did you like my little concert?"  
"You were extraordinary, my dear fellow! I daresay tonight was the best I have ever heard you play!"  
"I simply could not help it. Do you remember, earlier today, when the desire to play struck me?" the artist nodded. "Well, it struck me again as soon as I entered my room. It felt so wonderful to yield to this wish." Dorian positively radiated with joy. "Oh, and Lady Cattersby invited us to her banquet in the ballroom tonight. She happens to stay at this very hotel for the occasion for her and her husband's anniversary. You remember the lady, Basil. You painted a portrait of her daughter in spring."  
Again, the painter nodded. "I remember her vividly, yes." He said and chuckled quietly. "How come you know her?"  
"She was a friend of my uncle. He sometimes took me with him on visits."  
"Our world is a small one. Shall we go?"  
The two linked arms and headed for the ball room, which, for the occasion, had been filled with tables and chairs, flowers and cutlery. Soup was already being served when the couple found a spot. Almost immediately, Basil engaged in a conversation with the man opposite him, a Mr. Howard Paisley, who shared the same profession, while Dorian started talking to a young woman of similar beauty to him. The artist did not mind. What he had experienced in the lounge, had infinitely strengthened his trust in the lad.  
Dinner continued pleasantly, and music began to play in the background, while people chatted and laughed and enjoyed their meals. In the middle of the main course, however, Dorian tugged at Basil's coat and leaned over to whisper into his ear. The words that reached the artist made him blush a deep shade of crimson.  
"Take me to bed, Basil…let's leave this boring dinner."  
For a moment, the artist looked at him, not knowing what to say, but the boy only encouraged him by biting his lip. Under the table, he could feel a warm hand on his thigh.  
"Please excuse us." Said Hallward eventually to his new friend. "Mr. Gray is feeling unwell."  
Dorian responded with a sigh. Slowly he got to his feet. "I must have stayed in the sun for too long. How very foolish of me."  
And so, the young couple left for Dorian's room.

* * *

 *****graphic content***  
**  
They had agreed for one of them to book a room with a double bed, in case a scenario like this would occur. Quietly, Gray unlocked the door and locked it again behind them, while Basil closed the curtains. Finally, he could do what he had longed for all this time at the beach- kiss him. Those memories sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. How awfully sweet he had looked in his bathing suit and his straw boater! Their lips met passionately and Hallward found his hands entangled in those soft, golden curls he loved so much. He could feel nimble fingers remove his watch chain and undo the buttons of his vest.  
"I kept my promise, Basil…" Dorian muttered as his tie was removed. "I played only for you. You are all the inspiration I need. Don't grin like that. Just because I failed to understand you before, does not mean I do not understand now."  
"I must say, I am glad you do, and honoured you feel that way." He guided him towards the bed. The boy sat down and allowed Basil to undress him fully, before watching him undress himself. Slowly, the painter crawled upon the mattress, covered in lavish fabrics. Gently, he planted kisses all over the pale, youthful body before him. Oh how he adored him! Every inch of his flawless skin seemed so pure! Yet, pure he was not, for he knew about the physical aspects of love, more than a lad of twenty should know. Soon, his moans filled the room and he closed his eyes. Every one of Basils' moves sent a new wave of pleasure through his body and put a gentle smile on his parted lips. Just like the melody Dorian had lured from the piano, this encounter too was different in a remarkably positive way. Sensually, the lad moaned his lover's name and clung to him for dear life. Not long and he began to tremble. His fingernails dug into Basils' back, leaving little, red crescents. A few more thrusts and Dorian spilled his seed between them. His lover followed not long afterwards.

 *****End graphic content*****

* * *

Neither of them said a word until their hearts stopped racing. Their eyes met and their cheeks flushed crimson. "Thank you…" the boy said quietly, after placing a soft kiss on Basil's lips. "Today has been a most wonderful day. I will never forget it."  
Something inside the artist struggled to believe him, but he smiled happily. Even though Dorian would forget, in this moment, those words meant everything.  
"Please come to my studio, as soon as we are back in London. For once, I wish to paint you as you are…to remind you of what we have." He didn't mean to say those words. They hadn't even been in his head. They were part of the curious influence Dorian had on him.  
Strangely, the lad did not mind Basil talking about his art. Strangely, because he usually frowned at it, especially in situations like this, when the topic seemed rather inappropriate. This time, Dorian seemed to understand, and nodded. A pleasant silence fell over them and Basil's hand found itself caressing the boy's beautiful face and golden mane once again.  
"I had better return to my own room…" said the artist after some time. A sad tone dominated his voice.  
"Do you really have to leave me? Your company is so pleasant and I was just about to fall asleep." Dorian whined.  
"I am afraid I have no choice. I have no desire to rouse anyone's suspicion."  
A sigh and a last, quick kiss. "Very well. I shall see you at breakfast."  
The artist nodded as he gathered his clothes and quickly dressed himself.  
"Good night, Dorian." He said with a smile, as he opened the door.  
"Good night, Basil."  
When the painter reached his room, he collapsed onto his bed. Once more, he could not help but feel that a terrible fate would soon befall him. It was the same strange terror he had felt upon first setting eyes on Dorian; the same that had made him want to leave Lady Brandon's party.  
However, it was this fear that made him grateful for days like this that would remind him, even in the darkest moments, of how lucky he was to have loved Dorian Gray.


End file.
